


Oh What These Headlights Have Seen

by pterawaters



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, M/M, Mechanic!Derek, Not Beta Read, Rich!Stiles, Sex on a Car, bottom!Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-23
Updated: 2012-10-23
Packaged: 2017-11-16 22:21:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/544478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pterawaters/pseuds/pterawaters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek's boss is spoiled, demanding, and far too attractive. Or, the one where Derek is a mechanic and Stiles owns lots of cars.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oh What These Headlights Have Seen

**Author's Note:**

> Written in response to [a prompt on tumblr](http://ucanhavemysoup.tumblr.com/post/34335085553/derekisabadwolf-sterek-au-in-which-stiles-is) which was inspired by [ the fashion photo shoot](http://windycitygirl89.tumblr.com/post/32942408734/dylan-obriens-interview-with-da-man-magazine) Dylan did that was published about a month ago. Written for the "vehicular" square on my kink bingo card.

"Hey!" Derek's boss called, banging on the work bench near the door to the garage like hitting it louder would make Derek suddenly able to finish what he was doing and appear from under the car he was working on. Derek had heard the guy come in and slam a car door before a long pause and then the door opening again. "Hey, anyone here?"

"One second!" Derek called, not even trying to make his voice sound pleased. There was enough money in his bank account that Derek didn't _need_ Stiles demanding his cars be done _Now, God damn it!_ It was enough to live off for a month or two while he found a new job. Stiles banged the bench again. Yep, definitely enough. 

As he finished wiping the grease from his hands, Derek pushed out from under the Ferrari and stood up so that Stiles could see him. "How can I help you?" he asked, looking up as soon as the words left his mouth to see that his boss – a guy in his early twenties – was dressed to the nines in a bright red, three piece suit. "Going out?" 

"I _was_ , yeah," Stiles scoffed angrily, stalking up to Derek and poking him with one index finger to the chest. "But my Mini won't start!" 

Derek smirked and picked up the new starter from the work bench beside them, handing it to Stiles. "Here. Have fun." Then he turned away to pack up his shit and go home, because he didn't get paid enough to stay this late day in and day out, rebuilding cars that had no business being rebuilt other than the fact that Stiles believed in "recycling," which made absolutely _no sense_ because a lot of the parts Derek needed had to be fabricated new, or they weren't going to work.

Stiles scoffed in his throat and pulled Derek back with a strong grip around his wrist. "That's not funny, dude! I promised Scott I would show up in the Mini tonight!"

"Should have told me that earlier," Derek shrugged, twisting his wrist out of Stiles' grip. "You have _six_ other cars to choose from, and those are just the ones that are working. Go drive one of them."

"But I wanted to drive the _Mini_!" Stiles pouted, sounding like a preschooler rather than the college graduate he actually was. "You know what, Derek? You suck. You're fired."

Derek sighed. Stiles fired him several times a week. It never stuck. When he was done sighing, Derek gave Stiles a long look and then picked up his cycle helmet. "Guess that means I can go home."

"Okay, okay!" Stiles relented, grabbing Derek's helmet and tugging it away from him. "You're unfired! Now would you _please, please, please_ fix my car?" Then Stiles did what he always did best and gave Derek this subtle grin that he _knew_ Derek couldn't resist. 

He glared at Stiles for a few seconds out of principle, and then said, "It'll go faster if you help." It probably wouldn't go any faster, but asking him to stay was the closest Derek let himself to admitting he kind if enjoyed Stiles' company. Okay, _really_ enjoyed Stiles' company.

Stiles chuckled and stepped closer to Derek, all but invading his personal space. "Nah, I'll just watch. You know what happened to my favorite shirt that time I _helped_ with the Aston Martin's transmission. This is designer, man."

Smirking, Derek headed toward where the Mini was up on a lift, just a foot off the ground to give some space for working underneath. Calling back over his shoulder as he grabbed his socket wrench set, Derek called, "So take it off! You know where I keep the extra jump suits."

"Maybe I will!" Stiles said in a bratty, reluctant voice. He wasn't going to help.

Derek popped the hood of the Mini and leaned in, getting to work removing the heat shield at the back of the engine so that he could get to the busted starter. He kind of hated this car because it was difficult to get his hands into it and where they needed to go; everything under the hood squished so tightly together. When he felt a hand on his hip and the front of Stiles' thighs pressed against the back of his, Derek didn't bother to flinch. He knew this would be coming. Looking back over his shoulder, Derek met Stiles' eyes and said, "I thought you were headed out with Scott."

"I was," Stiles replied, running a hand up Derek's spine and pressing his hips in close with a little swivel. Derek fought off a shiver. "Seemed like maybe you need the company more."

Pressing up on the balls of his feet to get a better look at the starter behind the engine, Derek ignored the way Stiles touched him. Instead, he got his socket wrench fitted onto the first nut. Talking loud enough that Stiles could hear him even though he had his head practically buried in the car, Derek said, "I doubt this is the kind of company you and Scott keep."

Stiles laughed, his hands working up Derek's sides, under his shirt. "Right you are, baby." Derek hated pet names, so he grunted in displeasure and shoved one of Stiles' hands away, trying to concentrate on the task at hand and not on the memory of what had gone down yesterday in the back seat of the Lincoln.

"What happened to 'Fix this now, Derek! I need to drive the mini, Derek! I'm gonna be late, Derek!'?" 

Stiles pressed a little closer and replied, "You bent over and these jeans make your ass look totally hot."

"This is sexual harassment," Derek pointed out, getting the last nut for the heat shield undone and pulling it away. "I could sue you."

"You could," Stiles agreed, hands brushing down Derek's stomach with just enough force not to tickle and ending at the waistband of his jeans. Stiles started undoing the button as he added, "But I don't think you would. You love being my boyfriend."

Stiles tugged Derek's jeans down, fingers brushing Derek's cock and making it jump in anticipation. "I'd like it more if anyone except the cars knew I was your boyfriend," Derek replied, pushing back and up so he could close the Mini's hood and brace his hands on it. "We've done this outside of the garage what? Twice?"

"Hey," Stiles murmured, tugging on Derek's arm until he turned around and they were face-to-face. It made Derek feel stupid and vulnerable because his pants were around his knees and Stiles was still fully dressed. Plus Stiles had on one of those wide open facial expressions, mouth slightly open, long ass eyelashes prominent as he looked at Derek through them, that made Derek want to kiss the hell out of him and never stop. "It's not like that, Der. I just have to get my dad used to the idea first."

Derek grunted, "Sure," and looked away, but he let Stiles turn his head back when he tried. 

"I want _you_ , okay? Just you," Stiles insisted, pressing forward into a kiss, his hot hand on Derek's hard, wanting dick half a second later. "I want you so much I don't care if Scott never speaks to me again for ditching him tonight. And, yeah, maybe I like doing it out here because you smell like engine grease and sweat and it reminds me of the first time and all the times after it and Jesus, Derek. I can't even drive a car I know you've touched without popping a boner." 

Derek groaned, rocking into Stiles' hand and remembering how that argument over what color to paint the Bugatti led to their first awkward hate-fumblings against the workbench and coming with Stiles' lower lip clenched between his teeth and their still-clothed bodies slotted together, sticky-wet with come.

"I want you, too," Derek admitted, nipping at Stiles' lips and jaw with his teeth, lapping at them with his tongue. "God help me, I want you to fuck me, you annoying little shit. I want you to fuck me all the god damn time." 

"Fuck, yeah," Stiles nodded, pressing one last, harsh kiss to Derek's mouth before backing off. "There's still shit in the Porche, right?"

"Yeah," Derek agreed, taking the space to kick off his shoes and jeans and then pull his tank top off over his head. Stiles got back with the lube and condom almost right away, so Derek set himself to undressing Stiles while he fought to get the slippery cap open. "Hurry up!"

"I'm hurrying!" Stiles cried, helping Derek get his ridiculous red vest off and then his pants off and his button-down shirt open but not off. Slipping one slick hand back to glance between Derek's ass cheeks, Stiles said, "Get the hood down, baby. I wanna fuck you on it so hard you'll be pounding dents out of it all week."

Derek nipped at Stiles' lips and palmed Stiles' dick through his pants once before following orders and turning around. He lowered the hood of the car and braced his hands on it, looking over his shoulder at Stiles. "Like this?"

Stiles' mouth had fallen open dumbly, which made Derek snort. He snapped it shut, licked his lips, and said, "Yeah. God, Derek." He crowded in behind Derek, running his dry hand up and down Derek's side while his wet hand teased at Derek's asshole, pressing in just a fraction of an inch and then pulling out again to skim over the surface. "Do you want it?"

Derek rolled his eyes. Before Stiles, he hadn't been much of a talker in bed. Now it was kind of non-optional. "What do you think?"

Stiles grinned. "What's the magic word?"

This teasing shit frustrated Derek to no end. He pushed his ass back toward Stiles and growled over his shoulder, "If you don't get the fuck in me right now, I'm going to punch you. _Then_ I'm going to quit and get on my bike and ride off and you're never–" Derek's tirade was cut off when Stiles shoved two slippery fingers into him, all the way to the hilt without stopping. It burned a little, but mostly it felt like that overwhelming stretch that Derek loved. He lowered his face against the cool hood of the car and groaned, "Ohhhh, _fuck yes_!"

Stiles kissed the bottom edge of Derek's shoulder blade and murmured into his skin, "You're so cute when you make threats."

"That's – ah! – funny. I was going for terrifying."

"I know you were, sweetie." 

Derek kicked Stiles in the shin for using the nickname, but Stiles just laughed and pressed in a third finger, easing his way in. This was always the most difficult part for Derek to endure – letting Stiles set the pace, not because he ever went too fast. No, he always went too slowly and it made Derek sweat all over, his skin fire and ice and every hair standing on end. It made him feel like pushing closer and scrambling away at the same time. Stiles' fingers ran into Derek's prostate almost constantly like this and at this point, Derek always contemplated just for a second or two reaching down to get himself off, and too bad for Stiles. He never did that, though, instead hanging onto the feeling of Stiles' fingers in him for an eternity.

Lost in the sensation, Derek wriggled his hips and one of his hands, now sweaty with the strain of holding still under the onslaught, slipped. His shoulder fell down against the hood of the car with a muffled thud and the skin on Derek's cheek rubbed harsh against the paint job.

"Just look at how _wrecked_ you are," Stiles groaned and his dry hand rubbed Derek's back for a moment before disappearing. Derek heard the sound of Stiles' underwear being shoved away and it made him shudder in anticipation. Derek's cock bobbed helplessly under him, the Mini too small to be at a good angle to rut against while Stiles got ready.

And then Stiles pulled his hand out of Derek, which he knew meant that they were getting this show on the road any second, but it still made him stifle a whine of displeasure. He took the opportunity to push up from the Mini's hood and plant his hands more steadily, hanging his head between them as he breathed through the feeling of loss and the anticipation of what was to come. "Do it," he growled, his voice marred by the watering of his mouth and he tried not to fixate on the sound of Stiles opening the condom wrapper.

"Hang on a sec," Stiles replied, but then both his hands, one slightly stickier than the other, skimmed up Derek's sides and dragged back down, catching on his hips and gripping there, his cock slipping up the crease in Derek's ass. "Yeah, you want it bad, don't you, baby?"

"Fuck you."

"Maybe later," Stiles shot back without missing a beat and then he was pressing in, sliding home, and Derek trembled under the intensity of the stretch that went so far deep. "Oh, god, Derek," Stiles murmured, his voice much more serious and intimate than it had been the moment before. "You feel so damn..."

Stiles pulled out and pushed again, making Derek grunt as Stiles' cock stretched at him, skimmed his prostate, and rocked his whole body with pleasure. He deliberately clenched as Stiles drew out again, earning himself a moan. This was always the point at which Stiles _stopped_ talking. Like he loved Derek's body so much, he ran out of words. Derek smirked and rocked back into Stiles' next thrust.

They worked in tandem, swinging apart and back together again, Stiles' thighs hitting Derek's ass at the end of each thrust with a satisfying smack. Derek tried to control the rhythm, speed things up or slow things down, but Stiles somehow brought him back to the beat Stiles followed instead. "C'mon, faster!" Derek cried, each thrust almost pushing him over the edge he was seeking, but not quite. "Stiles, damn it!"

"N- Oh, fuck, yeah," Stiles replied, changing his tune between one second and the next. He sped up his thrusts into an urgent tempo that made Derek unable to catch his breath. Every part of his body felt disconnected from the next and he was so fucking close when Stiles cried out, his hips stuttering and his chest falling down against Derek's back, the edges of his shirt settling down around them. "Derek..."

Gasping at the sudden lack of sensation, Derek grinded his hips back and growled, "Stiles! _Please_!"

"Right!" Stiles said, one hand leaving Derek's hip and reaching down to stroke Derek's cock. He pushed the foreskin up over the head before pulling it back, which made Derek hiss with pleasure and then groan. He privately thought that Stiles was so good at this because he'd spent far too much time doing it to himself as a teenager, but it could have just been natural talent. Derek never remembered to ask once things were over.

Then Stiles rocked his hips again, his softening-but-still-somewhat-rigid cock brushing lightly over Derek's prostate as he continued jacking Derek's cock. Derek was so close, so close, when Stiles swiveled his hips, giving Derek just enough pressure that he clenched down and came, spurting all over the Mini's hood and grill as Stiles continued beating him off almost manically. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, Stiles! Stop! Oh, my god!"

"Fuck yeah," he said against Derek's back, his voice thick and satisfied as he let go.

Stiles' weight slumped against Derek's and honestly, Derek had enough trouble holding himself up, not to mention Stiles, so he shrugged and said, "Move."

"Okay, okay," Stiles replied with a yawn, standing up and stumbling away a few steps. Then he came back and took Derek's hand, helping him up into an embrace that quickly turned into a sticky, sweaty bear hug. Derek would have liked to complain, but he'd just come really hard and the sensation of all Stiles' skin pressed up against his was too appealing to resist. Stiles sighed. "You're fucking awesome, dude."

Derek dryly replied, "Thanks," but he let his arms circle around Stiles' back under his still-there shirt and buried his face in Stiles' shoulder. After a moment, Derek bullied his way into a kiss, which he made sure to keep slow, drawing it out by nibbling on Stiles' lower lip until he groaned. Pulling back, Derek chuckled at Stiles' wide grin and said, "If you hurry, you can still take one of the other cars to meet Scott."

"Eh," Stiles shrugged, breaking the hug and sweeping his pants up off the floor. "I think I'd rather stay in tonight. You still like pepperoni on your pizza?"

Derek grinned. "Yeah. Sounds good."


End file.
